Mistress of the Heart
by Kato and Koba
Summary: Anne has been given a second chance but it comes with a price. She has no powers, no privileges and she is not allowed to see her daughter. Will she be able to overcome the odds stacked against her and win the King's love and trust once more? Or will she lose him to the scheming snakes of the Tudor court forever?
1. An Unwilling Compromise

Disclaimer: I have no ownership of the characters from The Tudors.

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**14th May 1536, Tower of London**

Despite being a warm May morning, the skies over London were a dreary grey and threatened to rain. Inside the Tower of London, Queen Anne was deep in prayer at the make shift altar that had been erected in her prison cell, her spirit as dull as the sky up above. She couldn't help but contemplate her fate. Earlier this month she had been in her bloom as the May Queen, yet here she was now incarcerated like a common prisoner for treason against the King, her husband. It was like a bad dream that she couldn't wake up from.

She prayed daily.

Deeply.

With great devotion.

It was the only thing that brought her comfort in these dark days. She would ask God for clarity. What had she done that was so wicked that she deserved this? Had she done anything at all? Was she being tested? Like God tested Moses in the desert? Was she being sacrificed for the greater good, destined to become a martyr for his glorious cause? Or had she been completely mistaken? Was she now entirely forsaken?

By both God and her husband, the King?

She could not bring herself to think that God could be so cruel! This was not God's work. It was the Devil's. The Devil and his servant, Thomas Cromwell! It was all his doing. He had poisoned the King against her by whispering venom in his ear. Him and that witch, Jane Seymour, who seduced him with honeyed words and enticing kisses. They said she was an innocent in all this, but Anne always suspected that Jane was a snake in the grass.

What would happen to her family if she was found guilty and condemned to death? Especially her brother, who had been accused alongside her of the most disgusting and vile imaginings. Incest! The King was truly mad to believe her capable of such depravities. And what of her darling Elizabeth? What would happen to her as the daughter of a traitor? Surely Henry would not forsake his own flesh and blood? But then their treatment of Mary echoed in her mind and she clutched her hands together even tighter in order to relieve her anxiety.

She knew exactly what the King was capable of, and it frightened her.

_Lord God, _

_Please protect my family and keep them safe. _

_Watch over my daughter and keep her from harm. _

_Give me the strength to persevere and preserve my soul._

_Into your hands I commend my spirit._

_Amen._

She kept repeating the prayer over and over, as though it were a mantra. The rosary she held between her hands dug into her flesh but she didn't care. She continued to pray in hope that God would hear her pathetic pleading.

But suddenly a loud raucous from outside her cell roused her from her meditation and she stood up to investigate what was happening.

There was some sort of commotion occurring and she could hear two people arguing with each other. She cast off her glistening black veil and listened attentively at the door, careful to hear every word being exchanged.

"I wish to speak to the Queen" a voice demanded. Anne's eyes flickered instantly at hearing these words. The voice was soft and feminine but the lady in question spoke to the guard with all the authority of a Prince. The guard was stammering in his response.

"Bbb...bbbut Milady" he began to stutter, not sure whether he was being tricked or not. "The King says that she is to have no visitors save for her chaplain"

"The King has given me permission. You do not believe me? I have his written authority here, stamped by his royal seal. Open it if you dare, but do not think I will forget about this impertinence in the future" the lady warned with steely determination.

"No no no of course not, Milady. Give me one moment" the man began to back track, trying to coax the woman into his good books. Anne backed away from the door at the sound of his rattling key ring. It sounded as though he was fumbling through each and everyone of them in his quest to seek the one that opened her cell door.

"Here we go!" he announced and the clink of metal upon metal informed Anne that the key had been slotted into the keyhole. With an ear piercing, rusty old creak, the door swung open.

Anne's curiosity was peaked.

She could see the figure of the woman standing in the threshold waiting for the guard to move out of the way. Yet she could not see the woman's face. Instinctively, Anne looked over the woman's garments and observed she was wearing a turquoise hooded cloak made from the best Venetian velvet with the finest pink and gold damask skirt peaking out from beneath the fabric. From this, she insinuated that the lady must be someone very wealthy or from some ancient, noble family.

Her mind began to race at the possibilities of who it could be.

Was it Lady Mary, come to revel over her demise? Or could it be young Catherine Brandon, the Duchess of Suffolk, coming to beg for forgiveness for the part her husband played in her downfall? Or perhaps even her aunt the Dowager Countess of Norfolk, come to offer her some kinds words in her final days?

As the guard moved the lady stepped inside the room almost hesitantly. But as she did, she pulled back her hood and her glorious golden curls immediately cascaded down over her ivory shoulders and she shot her a sickeningly sweet smile.

"Milady" Jane Seymour greeted with a short bob of a curtsey.

Anne was almost foaming at the mouth in outrage!

How dare she come into her cell. How dare she show such lack of respect. First to steal her husband from beneath her very nose. Then her crown. Now finally she had the nerve to come and have one last gloat _tête_-à-_tête_. How dare she address her with anything other than 'Your Majesty' and not honour her with a low and grovelling curtsey.

She did well to bite her tongue and kept her face as a mask of stoic serenity, hiding all the bubbling feelings that lay beneath her calm exterior.

Jane took a quick look at her surroundings and immediately decided that they were not to her tastes. _How sad it must be to reside in here,_ she thought. Sure, it was comfortable enough but the place lacked heart and soul. There was no love here. No emotion. _And what torment to be locked up in the very same room that was once her coronation chamber_, she lamented. She began to make herself at home and pulled out a chair from the table on which Anne's untouched breakfast still lay. She hadn't had the stomach to eat this morning. Everything seemed to taste like ash to her at the moment and she found no enjoyment in food or wine any more.

Jane looked at the food with great distaste, as though anything less than a King's banquet would not satisfy her hunger.

"You are well?" Jane enquired half heartedly, as though it were just habit to ask the question and it no longer had any real meaning.

"As well as can be expected in such circumstances" was Anne's studied reply. She didn't think for one minute that Jane had any honest reason to be here. She was probably just here to gloat, comparing her own rising star to Anne's falling one. Either that or to spy on the Queen and report anything that could be used as evidence against her at her trial.

"Good. That's very good" Jane nodded to herself, earning a raised eye brow from Anne.

"How is my husband, the King?" she dared to ask, sharply reminding the pale girl that in the eyes of God she was still Henry's lawful wife and Queen of England.

"He is in perfect health and as merry as a school boy" Jane smiled naughtily, as though she knew some mischievous secret that only she was privy to.

Anne's blood began to boil at such words.

_Merry? How could he be merry? Is he not angry about my supposed infidelity? Or sad at my alleged betrayal of him? Or guilty for making such false allegations about me in the first place? He should be anything **but** merry. How dare he be merry!_

"Why are you here, Jane?" Anne suddenly demanded with al the authority of a Queen. She had tired of all the politeness and formality that had to be exchanged between them. She was fully aware that she was living on borrowed time and she couldn't be doing with pussyfooting around in such circumstances.

Jane seemed a little shocked at Anne's bluntness but she could not blame her for it.

"The King has asked me to negotiate with you on his behalf" she began to explain, tapping her long, elegant fingers against the oak table top in a comforting rhythm.

"Negotiations?" Anne queried, utterly confused with the situation that was unravelling before her.

"Yes. Now, luckily for you I am good at not repeating other people's mistakes. I learn lessons very well" Jane began as she poured herself a goblet of Burgundy wine that sat in Anne's silver decanter. "And when you were to be found guilty, and believe me you would have been found guilty, I was to marry the King" she revealed in a rather cold, clinical manner that Anne found most distressing.

A deathly shiver ran down her spine at these words which caused the fine hairs on her arms to stand up on edge. "W_hen you were to be found guilty, and believe me you would have been found guilty, I was to marry the King". _So her fate had been predetermined? She wouldn't have even been given a fair trial.

She would have been cast off and discarded like rotten meat. Was that all she was worth?

Jane continued,

"But you see, what he has done to you and Catherine, he can do to me. And I would rather like to keep my head, thank you very much. So, despite my family's protests I have agreed to become the King's mistress, or Mistress of the Heart as he likes to call me" she smiled at his boyish sentimentality.

Anne thought she was going to be sick and clutched at her stomach in order to relieve the pressure.

"But where does that leave you? Well the King could still execute you for treason but then he would be mocked and feared throughout Christendom. And what princess would want to marry a man that so easily discards his wives? So...we thought it best to give you one last chance" Jane announced, deliberating the last sentence a lot more slowly for dramatic effect.

"He has given me another chance? Oh saints be praised!"

Anne fell to her knees and crossed herself in thanks to the good Lord for keeping her safe and vowed in her mind to always be good and honour him as much as she possibly could in return for this blessing. She had a second chance and she would do everything in her power to make it worth while. She felt like she could weep but the thought of seeing Elizabeth's cherubic little face elated her with delirious joy and she couldn't help but cackle manically with happiness.

_Oh, to hold my girl in my arms once more!_

"But there are to be conditions" Jane coolly interrupted before taking a sip of the wine.

She savoured the rich, sweet taste and let it dance upon her tongue before clearing her throat and beginning once more. "Obviously the King needs an heir. He says that if you fail to be with child before next May Day, you are to be gone from his sight for ever. Also, although you are Queen in name, you will not be given any powers nor any of your queenly privileges until he sees fit. And your powers and privileges will be transferred on to myself as his mistress. And finally, you are to have no communication with your daughter."

Her elevation had completely evaporated with these terms and conditions. This wasn't a marriage. It was blackmail.

These conditions meant she would have to sit by idly whilst Henry got to sew his wild oats with this little wench who sat before her. She was completely and utterly powerless without a friend in the world to help her. Was this to be her life now? Was this a life at all? She had always considered herself a free spirit. She was a passionate creature, not completely wild but she wouldn't have considered herself tame either. She liked to think that she had always had control over her life and destiny, but these terms felt like shackles that would chain her down to a half life. She was to have no opinions, no independence, no voice at all to speak with. She would essentially be a slave. A broodmare.

Was he trying to break her spirit?

And the threat of still being discarded if she did not succeed in her duty of bearing him a healthy son left a nasty taste in her mouth. Could she live like this?

"What would happen to my brother if I were to consent to this?" she questioned.

"He would be freed of course, as would all the other men who were accused alongside you. But he would be banished to the continent and now be allowed to return to our fair island on pain of death" Jane announced.

_Well, that was good anyway. At least the King can't get to him if he is safely overseas. But can I really let this woman steal my husband's love and affection for me? Can I live in an unhappy marriage, where I cannot even be myself and am merely there to be the vessel of his heir? Not as lover, or companion or even friend? Just a womb?_

"I cannot share him with another woman" was Anne's simple reply, her voice trembling with fear. She knew this would be a dangerous thing to say but she had to say it aloud. She held her breath for the rebuke.

Jane merely took it in her stride.

"You must do, Milady. Or else he will kill you" she stated, but she had to look down at the floor as she spoke her next words, "And your daughter" she solemnly declared.

It felt like a dagger had been plunged into her heart. She had her principals, and she would not allow her pride to be wounded for any man, no matter how grand or majestic he was. She would gladly suffer a traitor's fate than live this half life she was being forced into. But she would not allow her beautiful baby girl to suffer for her mother's pride or her father's insanity.

For this was complete madness.

Even Jane's mournful tone seemed to agree that the King was not in his right mind if he was willing to kill his own child based on the sins of her mother.

Anne let out a loud, defeated sigh.

"Then I fear I must comply. Although you must understand it is against my will" she announced.

That was the day that Anne Boleyn lost her spirit, and she would face many more hardships throughout the next twelve months.


	2. Final Farewells and New Beginnings

**Auhor's Note: Thank you so much for your kind reviews, they really mean the world to me and I am so grateful for everyone who took the time to write to me. I am truly overwhelmed.**

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What first struck Anne as she took her first step out of the tower wasn't the warm rays of the sun that warmed her now pale cheek, nor the soft breeze that whipped her ebony hair against her face. It was how fresh and crisp the air tasted out here. After almost a month stuck in that stuffy and stifling apartment, the cool spring air was like a spoonful of sorbet that completely refreshed and invigorated her senses.

It felt peculiar to be out and about again. Her legs had stiffened from the lack of exercise and she had noticed that her thighs had grown flabby from the inactivity. Even now they felt like jelly as she walked away from the dreaded building that she daren't look back at. It was as though they didn't trust that their mistress wouldn't betray them and send them straight back into that dark, dismal cell.

Her heart wouldn't let her forgive what had happened to her this month, but her head exercised caution. After all, she was well aware that this could all just be a clever plot to get her to let her guard down. But every step she took away from the confines of her own private hellhole, the more liberated she felt.

She was free at long last.

As she arrived at the great gate, she was met by her jailor, Master Kingston, who greeted her with a discreet bow. She stood tall and proud with her head held high, trying to remember what it felt like to be the Queen.

"Master Kingston, where is my brother?" she demanded, desperate for any news on the wellbeing of her beloved sibling. Although it had not been outright confirmed, Anne had been under the impression that they would have been released at the same time. How she longed to see his bright face and charming smile once more. Perhaps it would be for the last time?

_Is he aware that I am to have a second chance? Does he know what sad terms surround this sacred chance? _she pondered sadly. The thought made her even more anxious and determined to see her brother one last time.

"Yet to be released, your Majesty" was his simple reply.

Anne bit her lip.

_I **must** see him, _she thought, _or I fear I might lose the will to live._

"May I visit him?" she desperately requested. She was well aware she was losing what little composure she was trying to retain in their conversation.

"Your Majesty..." Kingston began despondently but Anne cut him off before he could refuse her.

"Please Master Kingston" she pleaded, dropping to her knees and taking his hands within hers, "I do not know if I should ever see him again and I would like to make my final farewell to him" she begged.

Kingston looked down into those beautiful onyx eyes of hers that he had always admired from afar. Usually they glistened like rare jewels dancing in the sunlight, but today they were so mournful and sad. She reminded him so much of a doe, so fragile with those large, soulful eyes, that he felt utterly compelled to grant her wish despite knowing the trouble it would surely bring him.

Anne could barely contain her excitement at the thought of seeing her brother again, and no sooner had his cell door been opened that she burst forth within.

"Anne?!" George exclaimed in pure wonderment. He had been sat at the small desk that had been granted to him for writing his correspondences. He had been in the middle of penning a particularly long letter to his father to explain what future plans lay ahead of him, when he had been interrupted by the most beautiful surprise that God could grant a wretched soul in a time like this. The mere sight of his beaming sister was truly a treat for his sore, wearied eyes.

"Oh George, I feared I would never see you again" she cried, running into her brother's warm embrace and allowing him to envelope her within his strong arms. She inhaled his scent deeply, but was repulsed to find that his usual fragrant scent of rose and cloves had long disappeared and was now replaced by the stench of stale sweat and damp must.

"You are well?" he asked, lifting her head from his shoulder and taking a step back to look down into her face.

"Yes. Yes, I'm fine. But what of you? They did not hurt you?" she desperately enquired, lifting her hands to his face and examining it for any signs of wounds or stress. He seemed perfectly fine except for the dark bags that hung below his usually bright eyes. His demeanour, however, seemed very affected and she noticed he looked tired and utterly defeated.

"No. But poor Smeaton was not as lucky as we" he lamented, trying not to think about the tortures that they put that sweet, innocent boy through, all for the ego of a tyrannical King.

"Poor Mark" Anne sighed and crossed herself out of respect for the suffering of her sweet darling musician, "Do you know what is to happen to you yet?"

"I am to be released tomorrow and given safe passage to Paris. If I am not welcomed there, I shall travel to the Lower countries and try to make an honest living for myself" he revealed and this seemed to please her. She nodded her head and repeated 'good' a great number of times in order to reassure him as well as herself.

"And what of your wife?" she pressed.

_That wicked bitch whose deprived accusations has brought all this about, _she scowled. How she wished she could repay the deed and see Jane Parker suffer, lonely in the tower without a hope in the world. _But no Anne, her time will come. Their time will come,_ she had to remind herself. For now she had to focus on the positive.

"She refuses to come with me" George replied half heartedly, as though it made no difference to him whether she came or not. In truth, he was glad to be rid of the sour faced wench with her pinched face and whining voice. What man could be happy being married to such a nag of a wife?

"Do not worry, I shall make sure she gets her comeuppance, I can guarantee you that" Anne assured him and George raised an eyebrow in concern.

But before he could say a word in his wife's defence, footsteps approached the room and they were interrupted by Master Kingston.

"Your Majesty, it is time to leave" came his soft reminder.

He hated to disturb such an emotional reunion but he knew that if he didn't hurry things along it would be his head on the block instead of hers. Anne nodded her head in acknowledgement and Kingston decided to give them their final minute in peace.

"I fear I shall never see you again" Anne stated mournfully, barely able to look her brother in the eye as her own began to glisten with unborn tears. She had done well to hold her emotions in for so long but now her good work was being betrayed by a trifling sniffle that she could not contain.

A stray tear splashed on to her cheek.

George smiled at her kindly and brushed the tear away with his thumb.

"We will always be with each other. In here" he whispered in her ear, pressing his hand lovingly over her heart. She savoured the touch.

"Always remember, you are a Boleyn. Nothing gets us down" he reminded her with an affectionate kiss upon the cheek and she embraced him deeply one last time.

And as Anne left the cell with the knowledge that she would probably never see her brother again in this life time, his words of encouragement rang loudly in her ears. These words would nourish her. They would spur her on in her darkest moments. They would reassure her in her times of doubt.

_I am a Boleyn. Nothing gets us down!_

It was to be her new mantra.

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King Henry sat in his privy chamber with Jane Seymour and had left strict instructions with the guards that they were not to be interrupted for any reason for the next couple of hours. He had craved some private alone time with his latest love and he hoped that he might be able to have a quick fumble or two with her without any fear of being interrupted.

He needn't have bothered.

Whilst he had tried in earnest to coax her into sitting upon his lap, Jane had remained stringent upon the matter. He could barely even tempt her with a glass of his recently imported claret for Jane's brothers had warned her of the dangers of drinking alcohol with men in private, and Jane had protested that she must be a good girl until she and her family were compensated for her loss of reputation and social standing.

"Will you come to my bed tonight, Jane?" he enquired with all the hope and determination of a lustful youth.

He just couldn't control himself around her.

She was so beautiful. The way the sun's ray bounced of her golden locks and cast an angelic halo around her. How her hair cascaded over her exquisite ivory décolletage. How her pert bosom heaved when she became overwhelmed. How her plump coral lips formed into a sweet yet equally provocative smile. He needed to own her mind, body soul. And he intended on doing just that.

"You know I will not, Majesty" she gently chided him albeit with a good natured smirk. She certainly couldn't fault his perseverance.

Jane was no fool, though she often let people think she was. She knew that men were threatened by power and intelligence, especially if these virtues were found in women. She only had to look at Queen Anne for confirmation of this. The only power that was acceptable for a woman to wield was her virtue, and once she lost this she was powerless again for the rest of her life. So she carefully hid her intellect behind a façade of sweet docility and quiet obedience, careful to dangle her one advantage for all to see yet always keeping it out of reach until she had all that she desired.

She would not allow herself to be cast off penniless and shamed like her predecessor's in the King's affections. Bessie Blount. Eleanor Luke. Madge Sheldon. Even the Queen's own sister, Mary Boleyn. No, Jane had sold her virtue to the highest bidder, but she wouldn't let her goods be usurped until every last penny had been paid.

She was a shrewd politician and a calculating strategist.

The court would soon learn this.

"I've told you, you must call me Henry" he sighed, both frustrated by her lack of co-operation and her refusal to call him by his Christian name. She would not even allow him this one intimate gesture. If he was lucky, she would grace him by allowing him to kiss her hand or even rarer, oblige him with a quick peck on the cheek. But she never allowed him to kiss her on the mouth, never mind giving her a French kiss or God permit allowing him to take her maidenhead.

It drove him crazy!

But it made him want her all the more.

"Henry is a named reserved solely for the bedchamber" she wisely reminded him, "And I will not visit yours until I have security"

"But Jane..." he tried to plead his case.

He knew she was young and naïve. She didn't know how wide reaching the lust and appetites of a King ran. If only he could explain to her the importance of consummating their love then he was sure that she would yield. He wanted to be her first, to show her how beautiful love making could be. He promised to be gentle and considerate towards her, and he would woo her with finery and poetry before he made her his one and only lover.

"It may seem a little thing to you My Lord, but it is a great deal to me. Once I have lay with you I am considered damage goods. No man will want to marry me and I will live out my life as a shamed spinster" she revealed.

"I would never forsake you" he instantly swore, believing that he could and would be faithful to his beautiful, innocent Jane. This time he was so sure that she was the one that would keep his heart for ever and always.

"It is the way of the world, you know that as well as I do. We can never predict what will happen tomorrow" she wearily proclaimed. "Give me land and a befitting title, and I will be yours for all eternity" she promised.

"And a crown is not good enough for you?" he enquired bitterly, the sting of her initial rejection of his marriage proposal was still fresh in his mind.

_After all, what woman wouldn't want to be Queen of all the realm? Well, an honest one if truth be told._

And even though his enormous pride was still wounded on the matter, it warmed him to know that she wasn't after his crown. She wasn't a gold digger or social climber like all the others, namely that whore of a woman whom he had the misfortune of calling his present wife. No, his Jane was an honest girl who loved him for the man he was, not for the crown he wore. It made him love her all the more.

Sensing the tension that was coming between them, Jane decided to cosset him by sitting upon the arm of his chair and taking hold of his hands, smiling that honeyed smile that came so naturally to her and kissing them in reverence.

"I do not want a crown. I have never been ambitious, My Lord, even as a child. Edward wanted to be on the King's Council and Thomas wanted to be a rich nobleman. But I was always content with the thought of living quietly in the country with the man I love surrounded by many children" she reminisced, thinking back to her happy childhood and how everything seemed so simple and peaceful back then.

Henry was touched by her sincerity.

"Oh Jane, so sweet. So pure. You would have made such a noble Queen" he smiled, chucking her under the chin. "Now, tell me more about your Wiltshire upbringing" he coaxed her, smoothing her golden curls down and giving her an affectionate peck on the cheek as she began to recant her childhood memories.


	3. An Unwelcome Return

**Author's Note:** _Thank you so much for the reviews everyone, I was so shocked and humbled to be getting such lovely response to this story. I only hope I can live up to your expectations (hence the length of time between posting). Please keep reviewing :)_

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31st May 1536,

Although May Day had long been over, King Henry's new obsession with the concept of spring, rebirth and fertility had become so fervent that he ordered for his entire palace to be forever in the depths of spring. He saw this period of his life as a new start, a second chance. He had eliminated the threat of Katherine earlier this year and now that Anne had succumbed to his will, he was determined to start afresh with Jane as the eternal mistress of his heart.

He felt like he could do anything. His mind was sharp and his thoughts were clear. Everything made sense to him now.

He could feel the beginnings of a Golden Age coming.

A time of truth, beauty and logic.

A true English Renaissance.

The great hall was spectacularly decorated with garlands of ivy and myrtle leaves suspended from brightly coloured ribbons, whilst bouquets of marigold, irises and roses were scattered all around the place and sprigs of rosemary and lavender adorned the walls. The sprigs were even starting to become the latest fashion accessory at court, with several gentleman pinning them to their broaches and wearing them upon their doublets for both visual appeal and the fresh scent they let forth.

The place was a buzzing with chatter, laughter and lively music as the King sat upon his throne and presided over the merry party who drank, danced and debated before him. Yet despite the cheerful and amorous atmosphere, there was a clear underlying tension in the room that could be cut with a butter knife.

The whole court was waiting with baited breath for the spectacle they were sure was to occur when an old face would reunite with the King.

And when the horns blew a fanfare to announce the return of the Queen, the whole place fell eerily silent as all eyes darted to the door in anticipation.

"Her Majesty the Queen" a voice cried out.

The vultures prepared themselves for the wondrous entertainment that the return of a disgraced Queen back to court would ensue. Many failed to conceal their smug looks and vicious grins. Some even wore them proudly.

Anne walked in slowly through the room with all the grace that she could muster despite her humble regalia. Many of the courtiers were astonished at her attire. There was no tiara or crown perched nobly upon her head, nor jewels hanging from her swan like neck. There were no rich or sensual fabrics wrapped around her waist, nor no vibrant colours to offset her raven hair.

Instead she came in dressed in a gown of plain black wool as per the King's request.

He had planned this moment down to the last detail.

She was no longer permitted to wear decadent or expensive clothes. He had chosen the dress specifically to make her look more humble and it was meant to be a symbol of her atonement. She walked along the cold, stone floor in bare feet in order to illustrate that she was casting off the riches and comfort of court life so she could submit herself to the will of the King and her God. She was to dress like a pilgrim, seeking God's grace and holiness until the King was satisfied that her soul had been spiritually nourished. He wanted her to repent of her wicked ways. Of her sharp tongue and quick temper. He needed her to be obedient and humble towards him.

_Well, this ought to humble her enough,_ he smirked. _The knowledge of having to return back to the wolf's lair in sheep's clothing would humble even the boldest of men!_

But he also had ulterior motives for this debasement. He had recently become aware that many people at court were trying to play him for their own personal agendas and this would not do. He had orchestrated this spectacle to serve as a stark reminder to every one who was watching.

_Everything you have is only yours because I allow it. Any thing I give to you I can easily take back. Remember that!_

But despite it's intended psychological torment, it was all like water off a duck's back to Anne.

She was used to the court's accusing eyes and sharp tongues. And as such, she wore a mask, determined that her face should not portray the feelings and thought that lay deep below it's steely surface in order to protect her mind and her sanity.

She knew all to well that she couldn't let her enemies sense even an inch of weakness within her. If they did, they would all pounce upon her like starving, rabid dogs and they would tear her limb from limb. She knew that should she fail again, her head would be served to them upon a silver platter whilst they feasted upon her bones.

So she walked proudly, her head held up defiantly high. She even dared to smile her infamous lopsided smirk at those who could bare to give her eye contact. Some commented upon how dignified she looked, others remarked that she appeared haughty and smug. But no one could deny that she cut a remarkable figure as she approached the King and presented herself before him.

Anne felt a strange spark of anger overcome her as she looked Henry in his icy blue eyes for that split second before she fell into a beautiful low curtsy. This was probably the most humiliating aspect of the evening for her.

Having to submit herself to such a cruel man, a man who now had complete power over her mind, body and soul. She felt as though she was making a deal with the Devil himself.

And as per Henry's instructions, once she had held her curtsy for a fitting amount of time, she further postulated herself by lowering herself on to the floor and spreading her arms into a cross before him. This was her final submission and she felt every last bit of her pride and honour pour out of her body as her nose touched the dirty floor beneath her.

Chapuys, who had eyes like a hawk, couldn't help throw a victorious glance towards Thomas Boleyn which didn't go unnoticed. _Finally, now he knows how my Lady Mary feels,_ he gleeful thought, and then cast his eyes back to the spectacle before him. He couldn't help but smirk upon seeing how much the King seemed to enjoy watching his Queen's grovel at his feet. _Perhaps all is not lost after all._

After a short time, Henry decided to speak.

"Wife" he greeted cordially, coming down from off his throne and helping her on to her feet.

Anne stood up to her full height, her head held high and her shoulders thrown back to emphasise her natural regality. "You are well I trust?" he politely enquired.

"I am most refreshed, husband. I thank you for your hospitality during my stay in the Tower. My rooms were certainly befitting for a Queen" was her diplomatic reply. She was speaking as though Henry had sent her to the country for her health, not that he had locked her away in a dungeon for treason.

Some gasped in shock at her boldness and forthright manner, but Henry burst out into hearty laughter.

"I am glad to find that you have not abandoned your good humour during your ordeal" he smiled approvingly, offering his hand to her and inclining his head towards the throne. She felt a small inkling of hope light up in her chest as she lay her hand within his.

The two ascended their thrones in silence and with a wave of his majestic hand, Henry ordered for the music and festivities to continue. Anne waited patiently, if anxiously, for Henry to resume their conversation but it soon became clear to her that he was ignoring her completely.

Gentleman came and went.

Cromwell.

Chapuys.

Brandon.

Yet none of them would even look her in the eye let alone bow to her or try to woo her favour with a compliment. It was quite clear that any authority or influence she may have had before had long disappeared now. She clutched on to the arm of her chair, her hand resembling a claw. Her anxiety was getting the better of her.

"Husband, I trust you have been well these past few weeks" she weakly began, trying to engage him in simple chatter. "I enquired after you but..." her sentence was cut short by one of the serving boys approaching the King with a long bow.

"What is it boy?" Henry softly demanded.

"I beg your pardon, your Majesty, but Lady Derbyshire desires a word with you" the doe eyed boy relayed and Henry's eyes lit up with delight.

"Bring her forth" Henry declared, and the boy nodded his head in obedience and went to seek his mistress.

"Lady Derbyshire?" Anne coolly queried, trying not betray her curiosity. She had never heard of Lord Derbyshire and dreaded to think who he may have promoted during her stint in the Tower.

For the first time since their initial meeting that evening, Henry decided to grace Anne by looking her directly in the eye, and a naughty little smile grew upon his mouth, as though he were a little boy eager to show off some new forbidden toy.

She bit down on her lip to prevent her from asking any more questions. She didn't want to appear overly concerned. But she had to swallow hard in order to try and shift the lump that had now grown so large in her throat that it felt like it would choke her.

Finally, the boy returned with his mistress in tow.

"Darling, please allow me to introduce you to Her Grace, the Duchess of Derbyshire, Lady Jane Seymour" Henry announced as her arch rival approached their throne and dropped into a pretty little curtsy at the King's feet. Anne could feel her cheeks flushing scarlet.

She could not believe that this chit of a girl was meant to be her nemesis.

At the moment she was a picture of angelic virginity in an gown of cream and gold damask, her golden hair flowing down her back and a sweet smile lingering on her rosebud mouth. She looked so sweet, so innocent, as though butter wouldn't melt in her mouth.

_No, butter wouldn't melt in her mouth,_ Anne thought, _ it was sizzle!_

Jane gave a sharp nod of her head towards Anne, not enough for it to be deemed an act of subservience but enough to show respect that an ordained Queen deserved. A feat that no other had bestowed upon her since her return.

It had shocked the Queen that she had behaved so respectfully towards herself, but she still remained wary of her and eyed her suspiciously.

"But we already know each other, Your Majesty" Jane giggled, most amused at the silly antics of the King. Even though she feigned obliviousness, deep down she knew full well what was occurring between the two and watched on in anticipation.

"I am happy to see you so highly promoted, Lady Jane. But pray tell, which lucky man can call you his wife?" Anne eagerly pressed, desperate to know the new hierarchy of court.

Jane blushed slightly.

"I am rather embarrassed, your Majesty. I am still unwedded" was her quiet response, looking down at the floor in that coy manner that Henry adored. She looked up at her from beneath her long, thick eye lashes looking the perfect little nun.

"I see" Anne exclaimed, her mouth opening without her meaning for it to. For a moment, she seemed to resemble a pufferfish. "I see perfectly clear" she repeated, a trill of anger becoming apparent in her tone.

_So she has won the title on her own terms? Even I was not promoted so highly as to be a Duchess in my own right, and I had him eating out of the palm of my hand. What game is she playing? So now she is one of the most __powerful women in the kingdom. She even eclipses my own family in title, well, apart from Uncle Norfolk of course, but I do not know whether to call him friend or foe at the moment._

"Do not create a scene, Anne", Henry warned. "You have made your bed, now you must lie in it" he coolly stated.

But never one to be silenced, Anne dared to continue.

"And I am to be served by this...this...wench? Who won her Dukedom on her back?" she spat, casting the simpering girl a look so poisonous that she resembled a hissing snake.

"She did not win anything on her back, I can assure you of that" Henry's voice boomed throughout the hall causing everyone witihin it to stare at was unfolding before them, "No more than you did" he coldly accused and Anne felt like she could have slapped him for his impertinence.

But instead, she took a deep breath and remembered George's words.

_You are a Boleyn. Nothing gets us down._

She couldn't do it.

"Henry, please..." she began, doing her best to soften her face and sweeten her tone. She was sure she was capable of out sweetening Jane Seymour if she put her mind to it. She placed her hand upon his arm and rubbed it tenderly in an effort to placate him, but it was all for a lost cause.

Henry turned on her.

"Sit!" he commanded, "Enjoy the food, drink the wine. Dance if you wish. And tomorrow night you will prepare yourself for your marital duties. But I shall not sit with you this evening" he informed her in an icy tone.

And as he said this, he gave her a curt bow of the head and walked over to delight in the company of the Duchess of Derbyshire, who threaded her arm within the King's and allowed him to escort her around the court before engaging in a dance him with a dance.

Her face was a picture of blissful happiness.

Anne remembered that look.

She had worn it once herself.

How she longed to look like that again.

At the moment, she felt like she would never smile again.


	4. To Dance

_**Author's Note:**_ _Hi everyone, I thought I would include a bit of reader participation for a future chapter, so please vote on the poll on my profile page. It's in regards to Anne receiving a bit of luck for once. Thank you so much and please review, you are all so appreciated and loved :)_

* * *

Anne let out a long arduous sigh as she rested her chin on the palm of her hand. Currently her interest was being piqued by the bird cage that sat on her ornate rosewood desk.

She studied the little jay bird intently as it hopped glumly from perch to perch within its gilded cage, wishing for freedom. It was a pretty little bird, with feathers of blue and yellow, and it had glistening black eyes that were almost like sapphires. Yet despite its beauty, it seemed very solemn and wasn't whistling with its usual mirth.

_How similar our lives are,_ Anne contemplated.

She lived within the riches and splendor of the palace but could no longer find any value in their worth. The velvet of her chair no longer seemed as plush as what it once did. The food tasted bland and never seemed to sate her appetite. She felt perpetually cold despite the roaring fires that crackled in the hearth and the wine never seemed to quench her thirst.

She was essentially a prisoner in her own home and was at the mercy of her tyrannical husband who seemed to delight in her every torture.

She no longer had anything she could recognise as a comfort.

All but one of her ladies has been dismissed and replaced by others, those favoured by the King and his council. She was sure they had been sent to spy upon her. She noticed how they lingered in doorways, talking to each other in hushed tones. They followed her closely, so closely she could mistake them for her own shadow.

And God how she missed Elizabeth.

Her darling.

Her flame haired princess.

Her one and only love.

Being separated from her was like having a cold rusty dagger plunged into her breast. A dagger that ripped her chest open and tore out her beating heart for all to see.

She could not imagine a worse torture than that of being denied access to her own daughter. And the more she thought about it, the more she felt guilty for the part she played in separating Catherine and Mary during her quest for the throne.

Sometimes she would write letters to Elizabeth, knowing full well they would never be delivered. She wrote flowing prose about the daily rituals of court life, how she hoped that she was progressing with her French, how proud she was of her and how she loved her more than all the riches in the world.

And once the letter was complete she would place it within an envelope, seal it with a kiss, and store it in her writing bureau that was locked by a key she wore around her neck.

She was forbidden from wearing jewellery any more, save for a simple gold cross and the hollowed out sapphire ring that Henry had permitted her to keep from their courtship. Inside lay two portraits, one of her King and husband, looking as menacing and as magnificent as a god. On the other side lay the rosy cheeked face of her sweet daughter.

She kissed the picture every night before she went to sleep and kept her in prayers, hoping that God would be merciful and grant her a dream in which they would temporarily be reunited in a different realm.

She felt so lonely.

Sometimes she would go days without seeing another soul, save for her own staff of course.

_Was this what it was like Catherine?_ she wondered.

She could hear the merriment of the court down below her rooms and she longed to join them.

Sometimes, on her brighter days, she would dance in her apartments in time to the music that drifted up from beneath the floorboards. She would close her eyes and imagine that she was still in the King's good graces and was in the centre of the hall, dancing with all eyes upon her.

Her hands would hover in the air, as though an invisible hand was clutching on to them. She imagined Henry was standing next to her and they were performing the La Volta. She would smile and remember how kind her husband used to be.

Long long ago.

Then she would open her eye and watch the guards watching her perform. She liked to think she treated them to a spectacle. After all, she was well renown for her elegant carriage and graceful dancing.

_I bet Mistress Seymour does not dance as well as I do_, she thought spitefully, wondering if she and Henry were dancing beneath her at this very moment.

* * *

Beneath the floorboards of Anne's lonely chamber, a splendid feast was occurring accompanied by much dancing and merry making. And as Anne had correctly supposed, at the centre of the hall was Henry and Jane dancing within a loving embrace as they twirled, leaped and entwined their bodies to make a whole, single being.

It was marvelous to watch.

"You dance beautifully, Jane" Henry admired as he whisked her up into the air with great ease before setting her back on to the ground again.

Jane's cheeks flushed scarlet at the rare compliment. Or was it the brisk exercise of the upbeat dance that had caused her usually ivory complexion to flush pink?

"I thank you, My Lord. But surely you must jest. I am not a fine dancer by any means" was her genuinely humble reply as she let Henry wrap his arm around her waist so they could turn out of the dance and into the next step.

Dancing was a pleasure to Jane and she loved to attend country dances at neighbouring estates back in Wiltshire. But she had never been proclaimed a graceful or even particularly good dancer. On the contrary, her movements could be somewhat clumsy at times and she lacked an overall finesse that was expected from well bred ladies.

Yet this is what Henry loved about her.

She was not so studied in her movements, nor was she too aware of her own body. She possessed excellent timing and rhythm and simply let the music guide her. She was so natural and subtle, beaming at him the whole way through, that it was difficult not to be caught by her contagious enthusiasm and mirth. She wasn't faking her enjoyment or her passion.

Anne had been proclaimed an excellent dancer, and it was not a word of a lie.

But whilst she maintained a statuesque stance and possessed nimble limbs, there was no naturalness in her demeanor. In fact compared to Jane, she was positively stiff. Anne was graceful, but it was almost a chore to watch her keep up appearances. She was too in control of her movements and lacked that certain sprezzatura that came so easily to others.

"Nonsense. You dance from the heart. That is what makes you so beautiful" he smiled and he caught her hand mid air and brought it to his mouth, softly brushing his lips over her knuckles and planting it with kisses.

_She is so pure._

_So innocent._

_She doesn't have to plan and plot everything like the others did. Everything she says, everything she does comes from her heart._

_A heart that was bursting with love, kindness and gentleness._

Oh how he wished he had noticed her sooner, how different the world could have been.

As the music came to a climax, Jane fell into her neat little curtsy and Henry gave her a gallant, theatrical bow that made the whole hall roar with laughter before they erupted in enthusiastic applause at the happy couple.

"Well, that is enough dancing for me for one night. I shall retire to the side like the old man I am" he jested to the court, but no one dared laugh too loudly in case they wounded the King's pride. Instead they all feigned disappointment, as though it were some great tragedy that the King had decided to retire to his throne for the rest of the evening.

And with that, Henry took a hold of Jane's hand once more and led her up to the steps of his throne.

She did not hesitate for a moment when he bid her to sit in the Queen's seat. In fact she relished it. With a hand on each arm rest, she sat up rather haughtily and observed the court that she now secretly thought of as hers.

And why not?

She was Queen in all but name and that was how she liked it.

And all the while, Henry was clutching her hand as though he was holding on for dear life itself.

"Are you happy?" he queried, a little unsure of himself. Sometimes he thought that someone as good and selfless as Jane could never be truly happy. For surely, one can only gain so much happiness for giving unto others without receiving anything in return.

He would have to reward her for such righteousness in the near future.

Jane regarded him and let their eyes meet for a brief moment, before looking down at the polished wood of the floor and then peering up at him again through her long, dark lashes. She had this look perfected to a tee and was a move that her brothers' playfully referred to as the 'demure coquette' stare.

"Very happy" she stated in that honeyed tone that melted in his ears.

But then a dark cloud overcame him.

"The most?" he couldn't help but spit resentfully. After all, it was this arrogant phrase that was his current wife's motto. As though her happiness some how outranked that of the King and his kingdom.

_Well, at least it is better than that dreadful, self absorbed 'let them grumble, that is how it is going to be' she had originally settled upon,_ he decided. He should have known from that point what a vile, selfish harpy she was.

But back then he had been a fool blinded by lust.

He had been enchanted by that raven hair that hung and swung around her hips like a tapestry of silk.

By her olive complexion that was so exotic he used to playfully refer to her as Cleopatra of the Nile.

By those hypnotic onyx eyes that glittered like diamonds in the sun...

He shook his head and freed her from his thoughts before gazing down into Jane's eyes and smiled.

They were not dark or dangerous like Anne's.

They were an unusual mix of blue and green, an almost turquoise shade, and they shone brightly, inviting anyone to come and speak to her they were that sincere and friendly.

He felt so much safer with these eyes looking up at him and so kissed her affectionately upon her forehead.

"I could only be the most happy when I know you too are truly happy" was her calculated, diplomatic response.

It endeared him to her even more.

_She truly is a humble and noble spirit._

"Oh my sweet Jane, I think I would need a miracle to ever truly be happy. But I know that I am closer to achieving it with you by my side" he chuckled at her sincere naivety.

"Might I be so bold as to offer you some advice?" Jane queried cautiously.

Henry silently inclined his head implying that she could continue.

"I think that you dwell too much on the negative in life, and surround yourself with people who think of themselves rather than of you and your kingdom" and here she paused for a moment, as if to consider something, and then turned to the court scoping out all those who she was silently accusing.

Henry tried to follow her gaze but she spun back around the face him again.

"But your family always want the best for you" she continued.

"You mean Anne?" he raised an eyebrow at her, unsure of where this was going.

Jane couldn't help but give an uncharacteristic chortle at this suggestion.

"Well Anne is a Boleyn and a Howard, **she** will have more of an agenda than most others" she stated with great distaste, as though Boleyn or Howard were dirty curse words that were too foul to to be uttered in polite company. "But you have two Tudor daughters and young Fitzroy. Surely it would do you well to surround yourself with them" she suggested sweetly.

"Elizabeth has been banished as a punishment" he dismissed, turning his head away from her in order to indicate he no longer wished to dwell upon this matter. But Jane dared to continue.

"You should not punish the child for the mother's mistake, Henry" she pleaded in her gentlest voice, using the rare opportunity to use his Christian name in hopes of coaxing him to her cause.

"**She** has to learn!" he firmly stated, she meaning Anne. "She has to learn that everything she has is due to me and me alone. I can easily take everything she loves away from her"

Jane paused for a moment to carefully consider her words.

She knew she had to be sweet and pliant if she was going to get through to him. She had to hide her ambition under a guise of humble subservience. That way, he would mistake her mere suggestions as being his own well thought out opinion and so was more likely to act upon them.

"Then do that" she nodded her head as though she were agreeing with him, "Bring Elizabeth back to court and forbid the Queen from seeing her. It would be a more severe punishment, having her so close and yet so far away. And this way you do not punish yourself or your daughter. She is only a child after all" she reasoned, knowing that anything he viewed as a further punishment for Anne would help win him over to the idea.

"And what of Mary? Hmm? She is a woman now and yet she is still as obstinate and impertinent as a child" he spat.

He would never have believed that the little girl he used to think of as his auburn haired cherub would grow up to become such a spoiled, ungrateful brat.

"It is true that the Lady Mary is stubborn and rash..." Jane began slowly but Henry interrupted her mid sentence.

"She gets it from her mother! It's that hot Spanish blood of there's" he insisted, becoming slightly agitated and fidgeting in his seat. He felt as though his own blood were boiling at the moment and let out a great, big sigh.

But in an effort to cool his rising temper, Jane strategically clambered forward from the usurped throne and planted herself upon Henry's lap, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and planting a soft kiss upon the back of his neck that cause his whole spine to tingle.

"Or perhaps it is that infamous Tudor pride" she playfully whispered into his ear.

She knew she had managed to calm him when she heard him express a low chuckle.

"Perhaps" he beamed and Jane was adamant that he was sticking his chest out with pride. She had always thought that Mary was his daughter through and through and it appeared that he thought it too.

Even now he still couldn't think of a prouder moment in his life than when he saw his little angel toppled that snot nosed Dauphin and the outrage on Francis' face. It made his heart swell with pride and affection.

_She is definitely a Tudor,_ he smirked.

"I truly believe that Lady Mary has your best interest at heart and she wants nothing more than your love and respect" she dared to try again.

"Do you read minds, Jane?"

"No, my Lord. But I served the Dowager Princess and often heard them speak of how much they loved and admired you" she relayed tenderly, stroking his arm. "I think deep down, you know that she was influenced by others who did not have your best interest at heart, and being young and a girl, she had her mind poisoned by their drivel. But now it is all in the past and time to make amends"

"If she would submit to my authority, I would happily accept her back to court" he declared as though what she spoke of was already a lost cause.

"What if I were to intercede on your behalf? Like I did with the Queen" she encouraged, trying not to back off until she had made at least an inkling of progress for her cause.

Henry looked a little stunned.

"You wish to pursue a career in diplomacy, Jane?" he joked, looking over the sweet smiling girl with great curiosity and love.

"I cannot be any worse a diplomat than Thomas Boleyn, My Lord" she giggled and at these words Henry followed suit and roared with laughter, pulling her forward into his arms for an intimate embrace.

It was now more than obvious to everyone at court that clever, cunning and seemingly kind hearted Jane Seymour was the new power behind the throne.

For some it was a time to rejoice.

For others, a time to despair.


	5. A Declaration of War

_12th June 1536, Hatfield Palace_

With her silk clad foot toeing the gravelly ground beneath, Jane disembarked from her litter with the help of a footman. She took a moment to admire the simple elegance of Hatfield and silently drank in its beauty. The red brick of the manor house was a stunning sight and the terracotta walls towered high above her. Perfectly manicured hedgerows fenced off a neat lawn of lush green grass at the entrance and within the twist and turns of the knotted garden stood a small marble fountain that was adorn with a golden cherub blowing a trumped.

This truly is a house fit for a princess, thought Jane, and she was excited by the prospect of viewing the garden from the rooftop, as it should properly be viewed.

But a sudden solemness overcame as she made her way to the cavernous entrance that caused her to pause momentarily.

Yes, it was a house fit for a princess. But Mary was no longer a princess.

She had been shamed and humiliated. This once noble and gracious princess, the granddaughter of the great Isabella and Ferdinand of Spain, was now little better than a servant! She had been utterly degraded and was forced to wait upon her legitimate half sister like a common nursemaid. She had little prospects for the future and those she once loved had completely abandoned her.

Poor Mary. People used her like a pawn in a game of chess, manipulating her to gain power and prestige. She was a victim of court politics and one-upmanship, stuck in the middle of a dangerous game. But Jane hoped to see her restored to her former glory. She was determined to reinstate her back to her former position of Princess of Wales and the true heir of King Henry VIII.

She was going to teach her how to survive in this court of wolves, even if Jane secretly considered herself to be a cub of Wolfhall.

Jane waited patiently in the library that lay adjacent to Princess Elizabeth's privy chamber. She paced the room in a calm manner, studying the titles of the books and fingering their ornate leather bounds until Mary finally entered. She looked rather dour dressed in a black gown fashioned with a stiff, pristine lace collar. Her heavy golden crucifix swung clumsily against her chest as she gave a brief curtsey to the stranger before her.

Mary may never have met Jane before, but she had certainly heard all about her.

"Lady Mary" Jane greeted warmly, bowing with great gusto at meeting the young princess.

She could see a great beauty lurking behind the surly face that stared back at her. She had bright blue eyes and luscious auburn hair, the exact same shade of an autumn leaf turning from orange to red. She could definitely see her father in her and it was an image that warmed her heart.

But whilst Jane's greeting warm and welcoming, Mary's response was less than enthusiastic.

"Your Grace" was her very cool reply, her eyes boring through her.

She regarded the woman meticulously, looking her up and down as though she were a slave at market. She wondered what his father saw in his latest whore. Sure, she was beautiful, but all the women at court were noted for their beauty. It was a prerequisite. She had heard whisperings that Lady Jane was meant to be a kind, gentle lady of honourable reputation._ But a whore is a whore, whether she is painted or sainted,_ Mary often told herself and to all others who would listen.

"I hope to find you well..." Jane began the necessary common courtesies that were so entwined within courtly rituals.

But Mary, broken and defeated, did not feel like playing courtly games today and cut her off rather sharply.

"...And I hope that **you** are not plotting to use me for **your** own vanity, ambitions and greed" was her very curt reply.

Jane was a little taken aback back her tone.

Although every word she spoke was as cool and as calm as an autumn breeze, she spoke them with all the sting of angered hornet. But Jane didn't let this affect her. Instead, she softened her smile and continued speaking to her in her most sweet and honeyed voice.

"My intentions for you are entirely honourable, I assure you" she tried to reassure. "I have been sent by your Father, the King"

"My father?" Mary's squeaked.

Jane noted at how the princess' composure changed completely at the mere mentioning of the word. She stood a little taller and had inclined her body towards Jane's. Her eyes had grown large with anticipation and although she maintained a regal, stiff posture, with her hands clasped together before her, a certain desperation and eagerness had overcome her countenance and she hung on to Jane's every word. She was desperate for further knowledge. Her lips trembled as she dared to discover more.

"How...how is he? He is well?" she stuttered a little in her eagerness, carefully trying not to betray her true feelings.

"He is very well" Jane smiled kindly, "And he misses you"

Mary furrowed her brow at this comment and looked down at the floor sullenly as she spoke.

"He knows where I am. He can visit me any time he should he choose to" she mumbled sulkily.

Though she had long resigned herself to the belief that her father no longer loved or cared for her, she still hoped above all hope that a miracle would restore her to his grace and favour.

"He is a King, my Lady, and he has the ego of one" Jane wisely proclaimed and Mary couldn't help but privately agree. Still, she kept her defenses up and was determined to put a stop to whatever trouble Jane was brewing up.

"If you are trying to force me to submit to his authority and go against all I believe in, I fear you have had a wasted journey, Your Grace" she informed the lady.

"I am not trying to **force** you to do anything, My Lady" she reassured her.

"Then why have you come?" she eyed her suspiciously.

"Shall we sit?" Jane inquired, purposely trying to keep the poor girl in suspense.

Mary, ever a gracious host, gave a brief nod of her head and led her to a small table next to the window that overlooked the courtyard. She was rarely allowed to sit in here, or even walk among the flowers outside. Most of the time she was confined to her chamber, lonely and without a hope in the world. Jane hoped to change all that.

"I want to help reunite a father and daughter who are both as stubborn as oxes., The bond between father and daughter is sacred, and nothing, no man or God, can destroy that"

"A woman can" was Mary's scathing reply and she thought of the wicked witch that had caused her such misery and heartbreak.

That damned dark eyed concubine.

That Midnight Crow.

That Great Whore!

She despised Anne Boleyn and everything about her. She had made her doubt everything she had ever known or thought about herself. She even hated the fact that she had to hate her own baby sister, her own flesh and blood, just because she had spawned from her evil and corrupted womb. Mary was not a monster, she was no Medea. She did not take joy or pleasure in hating Elizabeth. But her hatred for that evil sorceress was so pure and all consuming that she could not tolerate anything that was associated with the black eyed whore.

"You know of the current situation at court?" Jane enquired, wondering how savvy the young girl was and how much gossip she listened to.

"I have heard rumours" was Mary's slow reply. She could barely conceal the smirk that was beginning to grow on her lips. "That the Concubine no longer holds any sway over the King and that you are Queen in all but name"

"It is true. And I want to help you, Mary. But in order to help you, you must help me" she urged.

"And how would I do that?" again Mary was suspicious. She was so used to being a pawn in someone else's game. First her fathers, then her mother's. Cousin Charles, Chapuys, even the Boleyns had tried to use her for their own gain and profit.

"By playing a game. The King's court is all but a game really. If you learn the rules and play the game better than all the others, you will win. And if you should win on my terms, I promise you favour. Real favour. Royal favour" she all but whispered gleefully. "I will make you the first woman of the realm, with riches and your own household and even a husband of your own should you choose one"

Mary's eyes lit up and couldn't help but be intrigued at such a delightful prospect. It was all she had ever wished for. A handsome husband who adored her whom she could start her own family with._ Oh what a dream that would be._

"And what **is** the game?"

"The game of the two faces" was Jane's calculated reply and Mary arched an eyebrow. "Every action you commit can have two meanings. A bow can be both subservient and mocking. A smile can be friendly or victorious"

"So you would have me be deceitful?" was Mary's horrified response.

"Not deceitful" she lingered, "Is it your fault that people cannot read one another's minds? But so long as **you** know what the meaning behind your actions and words are, should it matter what others believe? You could outright say one thing yet mean another, should you take care of your wording" she explained.

"And you think this is how I should submit myself to the King? By tricking him into believing i think one thing when I believe another?"

"It is the way of the world, I'm afraid, Milady. Only Kings have the privilege of saying what they truly believe and our Holy Father put him on this throne to be obeyed and flattered"

"And what will happen to me if I do not play this game? I am not scared of poverty, Your Grace, my mother endured it well enough" she said with all the braveness of a martyr.

"I fear that if you do not take my advice, you will end up the way of Thomas More and Bishop Gardiner" she stated bluntly, rising from her chair. "And I truly hope above all hope that you take heed of my words, Lady Mary, for they could well be the last words you hear as a free woman. I bid you good day" and with a bobbed curtsey Jane began to get on her way.

But she had barely reached the chamber threshold when a voice called out behind her.

"Wait!" Mary exclaimed, and Jane turned around and welcomed the girl before her with open arms.

* * *

_4th July 1536, Hampton Court_

It had been decided!

After much consideration and careful instruction, Jane had proclaimed Mary ready to make peace with her father and declare war upon her enemies at court. She had orchestrated everything about the event, from those who would be in attendance down to the last piece of fruit that was to be served at the feast.

The great hall at Hampton Court was filled to the brim with eager courtiers waiting to see what had become of their adored and beloved princess. Many had not even laid eyes upon Mary since she was a young girl and were eager to see how Catherine's daughter had bloomed and whether she possessed her mother's strength, grace and beauty. Would she look more like her mother or her father? Many were interested in her health. There had been rumours flying around the court that the Boleyns had been poisoning the girl to get rid off her once and for all. Would she look pale? Frail? Sickly? And how would she behave to the father that had stripped her off her titles as well as her legitimacy?

Then there was the matter of Anne Boleyn. Tucked far away in the corner of the room, discreetly hidden next to a great tapestry, stood Anne, Queen only in title. She had been invited to attend the ceremony of submission so she could revel in this small yet significant victory. But neither Henry nor Jane believed that Anne was capable of acting graciously in such circumstances and feared that any obvious triumphant gloating would only exacerbate the already delicate situation. So for diplomacy's sake, they decided to banished her to the outskirts of the room, carefully concealing her from prying and accusing eyes.

Anne did not know what to make of the situation as she stood waiting with baited breath.

Sure, she was pleased that Mary had finally saw reason and was giving her blessing to her marriage, thereby legitimatising Anne's position and Elizabeth's legitimacy, but deep down she knew something wasn't right about this whole matter and her body was warning her to remain cautious.

It was niggling at her brain.

_Why has she decided to submit now? _Everyone at court knew of Anne's precarious position, surely Mary should be challenging her claim, not submitting to them and declaring herself illegitimate._ Has someone told her to do this? And if yes, who? What would they gain from it?_

There was a great fanfare as Mary entered the room dressed in a stunning royal blue gown that complimented her sapphire eyes. She slowly proceeded down the length of the hall, as many had done before her when readying to humble themselves before their King. She only stopped when she came to the foot of his mighty throne.

All her eyes were upon her.

She could scarcely breath.

But in the corner of her eyes she could say Lady Jane standing at the King's right hand side and she offered her a kind, encouraging smile. A smile that Anne had noted with great concern. It was true that she had the eyes of a hawk.

_Jane Seymour! What game is that whore playing now?!_

It seemed Jane's smile had worked and Mary took a deep breath as she summoned up all her courage and began the performance of her life. She took a step up on to the throne's platform and fell to her knees at her father's feet.

"Forgive me, Father" she cried and the court gasped aloud in shock. Even Henry seemed a little surprised at this behaviour.

Jane observed carefully.

She knew she wasn't calling out to her earthly Father, no, she was asking God to forgive her for what she was about to do. "I am a wretched daughter and do not deserve such a kind, forgiving and glorious Father such as yourself" she continued to ramble as she reveled in praising her Lord God. Her lips were trembling, her voice croaked and wavered.

Jane had coached her protege well and Mary had always been a quick learner, but this had exceeded even her own expectations.

"Hush child" Henry declared impassioned by the soulful display of remorse. He leapt from his throne and went to her, wrapping his arms around Mary's petite waist and guiding her up, inhaling the sweet scent of her auburn hair as he did so. He remembered when he used to stroke her hair when she was a child, he was so proud of her thick, glossy Tudor hair.

_His beloved princess, his most precious jewel._

Mary turned to face him and stared deep into her father's eyes before turning to address the court.

"I swear to all here present, that I shall be a good, dutiful daughter from this day on. That my blessed Father is the one true head of the English church, and that there are none above him." Only a few seemed to notice that Mary's eyes were raised to the ceiling as she spoke, pledging her faithfulness to God and the true Catholic faith. Then she turned her eyes to the King and smiled gently "And that the King's marriage to the Queen is true and lawful, this I swear upon my poor, wretched soul" and she blessed herself with the sign of the cross with the image of her mother clear in her mind. In Mary's eyes, her father had only ever married once, and that was to her own beloved mother, God rest her soul.

_Forgive me for my deceit, mother,_ she begged, _I am not as strong as you are._

"Sweet Mary" Henry grinned. In truth he wasn't sure what he was happier about. The fact that this stubborn girl before him had yield to his will, or that his sweet, loving daughter had returned back to him. "We most heartily welcome you back to court"

The hall burst into applause as father and daughter embraced each other deeply, and Henry took hold of his daughter's hand and summoned a chair be brought up for her to sit on so they could chat in private.

The rest of the evening continued with much merriment as Henry and Mary began to reconnect and reminisce. Even Anne joined in with the fun, devouring the food and wine whilst reacquainting herself with old friends and courtiers. The ones that dared speak to her anyway. For everyone knew that to be friendly with Anne was like waiting for a lamb to be slaughtered.

And everyone noted that it was a Seymour, not a Boleyn, who currently presiding over the festivities upon the Queen's throne.

"Jane, you are a miracle worker. How did you manage to tame such a beast" Henry whispered into Jane's ear as she sipped upon her mulled wine.

"She was just a lost child, Majesty. And she was more willing and pliant then i thought she would be. I think she missed her father" she implied, giving his hand a gentle squeeze as Henry beamed happily at her, proud of both of the women by his side. "But I think I shall leave you two alone for a little while, you have much more to discuss. Will you miss me terribly?" she giggled coquettishly.

"I always miss you when you're not by my side" he declared and kissed her passionately upon the lips.

Mary shifted uncomfortably in her seat at such a debauched spectacle of public affection. She tried to distract herself by burying her nose into her goblet and turned in the opposite direction in hope of spying courtiers who she had befriended from her happy carefree years. She did not have to avert her gaze for long as Jane pulled away in a tantalising manner and slowly walked around the perimeter of the room, meeting and greeting all who wished to flatter the King's new love.

Anne bided her time in her lowly little corner, watching every single person who Jane interacted with as she made her way around the court, coming closer and closer towards her until...

Finally, Anne saw her chance and pounced!

"Lady Derbyshire" Anne declared, rather than greeted as she stepped in front of her nemesis in order to prevent her from moving on past her. This might be the only opportunity she would get for a while and she meant to use it wisely.

She loved how she towered over the little pipsqueak.

"Your Majesty" was Jane's entirely casual response, as though she had little care with the world that the Queen of England was standing before her. She nodded her head at her as a nuance sign of respect. Although Jane was not Anne's biggest fan, she certainly believed that she should still be treated with respect, even if she did believe herself to be more superior than her. After all, her mother had taught her to treat her inferiors with great decorum, grace and manners, just as Our Lady the Blessed Virgin did.

"You think that you are better than me, don't you, Lady Derbyshire?" Anne coldly accused, glowering at her with her piercing eyes.

"No your Majesty, for you are the Queen and I am but a Duchess" was Jane's simple yet teasing reply, for both of them knew there was a hidden meaning behind her words. She was secretly declaring that even though Anne may be Queen in name, it was now Jane who pulled the strings at court. And she much preferred it that way.

"You play a dangerous game, your Grace. One you will not win and..." Anne began, hoping to scare the girl off with a stern warning.

"Your Majesty flatters me" Jane interrupted with a girlish giggle as she looked down at the floor and then back at Anne, daring to look her squarely in the eye. She knew better than to argue with the Queen and she could see that her cool, nonchalant approach was aggravating Anne all the more.

_Perhaps she will create a scene, how ghastly that would be for her, _Jane maliciously thought.

Anne tried to continue her speech, but she could feel her shoulders beginning to tense up and her stomach was in knots. She noticed that her throat was becoming sore from the strain of trying to keep her voice hushed and dignified, when truthfully all she wanted to do was shout and rant and yell in the girl's face.

"Why are you interfering with matters that do not concern you? Why should you care whether Lady Mary is restored back at court?" she demanded.

Jane remained silent, standing on the spot and smirking at her with that sweet, sickly smile of hers. Anne could feel her blood boiling and she curled her hand into a fist. She wanted to knock that perfect smile of her insipid little face.

"Answer me! Answer me now! I am your Queen!" she reminded her, her voice becoming more shrill and hoarse with every word. A few people around them were starting to stare now.

"For your benefit of course, and that of the King and his country" Jane announced sweetly as though it was simplicity itself. But the tone in which she spoke her words was almost mocking. Anne could read her mind and she could hear Jane laughing, saying _I did it because I can, because I know it will destroy you, and there's not a single thing you can do about it! _

Anne couldn't control her temper a minute longer.

"You saved me from the axe yet you are determined to destroy me. Why? Are you friend or foe? Speak truthfully you snake in the grass" she ousted. She had to bite her bottom lip to remind herself that Henry was only feet away from them. She didn't want him to see her lose her cool. He needed to see that she could be gracious and regal despite her trials and tribulations. She needed to win back his respect, for without his respect she would never win his love.

It was a trying experience.

"I am neither your Majesty" was Jane's simple reply. "I care not for your plight, **nor** your triumphs. **Your** life is a mere grain in the silo of **my** life" she continued bluntly with a look that dared her to challenge her impudence.

"Then you are my foe" Anne declared, "And as such, I cannot stand idly by as I watch you destroy my life" was her passionate proclamation.

Jane raised an eyebrow, intrigued at the Queen's words.

"That is a shame, your Majesty. For I was going to leave you and your lot in blissful peace. But if this is a declaration of war...?" she enquired hesitantly.

"It seems so" was Anne's equally mousy reply. It wasn't the first time she had regretted not biting her tongue during a confrontation.

_Did I just bring this upon myself? Perhaps Jane wasn't purposely setting out to destroy my life. Perhaps my misfortunes were just the unconsidered consequences of her actions. She did save my head after all. And who knows, Mary's submission might help restore me back to my former glory. What if by doing this, I jeopardise Elizabeth's and my family's well being? Who knows how low she may sink if she does truly consider me her enemy._

But she knew it was far too late to back down now. To do so would seem cowardly and she would never allow herself to be seen to be intimidated by a lowly Seymour dog.

"Then war is what you shall have" Jane coolly announced, looking at Anne with her true face and not behind the mask of gentle sweetness that she usually paraded around in.

Her face was serious and stoic. She was a breath taking sight, like Athena or a Valkyrie. Anne believed that Jane looked even more beautiful when she was serious than when smiled and played the fool. She looked like a Nordic goddess with her stern, icy blue eyes, her silvery hair and her prim, pouty mouth. She was a true Snow Queen with veins of ice and a cold, frosty heart. Her skin looked like it was glistening with tiny diamonds.

But she wouldn't let this little chit of a girl intimidate her.

"Reap the wind, Lady Jane, for I am a Boleyn. Nothing gets us down" she threatened in a breathy hushed voice, so quiet that only Jane and herself could hear her words. And with that, Anne spun around on her heels and rushed off to her rooms to plot her new found enemy's demise.


End file.
